All the strengths and limitations of Sam Shepard’s True West can be found in the sturdy Tampa Rep production of this frequently revived play, currently appearing at USF.
True West is staged so often not, I think, because of its great depth or importance, but because it’s exceedingly accessible (compared to Shepard’s other dramas) and makes few demands on cash-strapped artistic directors — only one set, four actors, and a wallful of toasters. Certainly this exploration of Shepard’s own divided psyche — half intellectual, half wild coyote — is of little personal relevance to most spectators. But if True West lacks the far-reaching significance of Buried Child or the artistic daring of a dozen of Shepard’s plays from La Turista to Angel City and When the World Was Green, still it’s fun, at times incisive, and, except for its last scenes, unpredictable. It’s also an opportunity for two willing actors to show their chops as the battling brothers Austin and Lee, the former a screenwriter with an Ivy League degree, the latter a desert rat who steals TVs for a living.
Tampa Repertory Theatre at Studio 120, USF Theatre Building, 4202 E. Fowler Ave., Tampa, through Jan. 24. Thurs., 7:30 p.m.; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m; Sun., 3 p.m.. $15-$20. tamparep.org.
The two main actors in this production, Jack Holloway and Dan Granke, will be switching roles at different performances, so there you have one more comment on Shepard’s divided soul: the players may change, but the split endures. With two other fine actors, Jamie Jones and Caroline Jett, filling out the other, smaller roles, this is a likable version of a moderately interesting work.
The play begins with the tension between Austin (Granke, on the evening I attended) and Lee (Holloway) already palpable. Austin is at his typewriter, working on a script which he hopes will excite his producer friend Saul Kimmer (Jones), and Lee hovers over him, menacing and ungovernable. Lee is just back from a stay in the Mojave Desert, and he has undisguised disdain for his educated writer brother. Austin, meanwhile, is on the cusp of a lucrative deal, and feels only anxiety about the presence, suddenly, of his alcohol-guzzling sibling. When Kimmer shows up, Lee intrudes, and pitches an unlikely script idea of his own, about two contemporary cowboys chasing each other through the Texas panhandle. Kimmer is either intrigued — or insincere — enough to suggest that Austin write up Lee’s idea, and the stage is set for a combat over artistic precedence. Where’s the real wellspring of my success, Shepard’s asking: in the educated wordsmith or the uncivilized misfit? Or is it possible that the two somehow need each other, with the best work emerging from their perennial struggle?
Granke, looking almost as husky as Holloway, doesn’t exude physical weakness as do the other Austins I’ve encountered, and shows a respect for his untamed sibling that’s eventually deeper than his fear of him. The virtue of these performances, nicely staged by Megan Lamasney, is that in physical altercations, Granke’s Lee always has a thinkable chance of surviving or maybe even prevailing.
As Saul Kimmer, suave Jamie Jones turns in a solid performance, though he doesn’t look even marginally Jewish, and would be more credible playing a popular film heartthrob. Caroline Jett, as the siblings’ mother, could hardly be better, though: she comes across just as woozy and loopy as can be, an authority figure without any personal authority. Alex Amyot’s attractive living room set works well as the arena in which the two principals (and principles) tangle, and Gi Young Sung’s fine costumes include Lee’s worn-out jeans, which look like they haven’t been washed in a decade.
I must admit that I was initially thrown by the resemblance of actors Holloway and Granke. Both are robust, both have beards, and they more readily suggest alternate images of the same man than irreconcilable, incompatible halves. But even with this curiosity, the Tampa Rep production is more than competent, and will especially work for those who haven’t seen the play before. Get to know Shepard the playwright through this remarkably candid theatrical confession; then seek out his other, better plays and their revelations.
This article appears in Jan 7-13, 2016.